


The Ice Witch

by xxjewelbox



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, all of elsa's friends are dead, i have no idea how to describe this in tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23289703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxjewelbox/pseuds/xxjewelbox
Summary: Winter is here and it is dangerous to the Northuldra, and Honeymaren decides to go on a quest to see why the famed "Ice Witch" has abandoned her people.When Honeymaren finally finds said Ice Witch, she sees that while she always imagined an old crone or something like that, what she finds is a heartbroken woman who struggles just like the rest of the humans.
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I don't know where this idea came from, but I wanted to write something where things were different and I merged like scenes/ideas from 6 different fics/AUs I had thought of during the work day (and really only had a few scenes from said fics and not enough to create more things out of them). So, we get this.
> 
> If you have any questions about the ~world I've created here, ask away and I'll either answer the best I can or simply tell you to wait and see if things are going to be explored in another chapter.

It had been a hard winter. Hard, cold, and with no sign of letting up, and it was about to smother Honeymaren’s people. The reindeer were struggling for grasses and lichen, and they too dwindled in number; the traps were coming up empty; even gathering had yielded less and less. The Northuldra were facing the possibility of not making it through the winter if things did not change.

The villagers gathered in Yelana’s hut, voices all raised in a chorus of anger and accusation about why the winter was as terrible as it was. 

Áppá, an elder and trapper, spoke up above the cacophony. "The only one who can help us is the Ice Witch," his deep voice settled amongst the crowd of gathered Northuldra.

They all knew stories of the Ice Witch.

Many many years ago, before even Yelana had been born, a powerful spirit had been born in their lands (or in Arendelle, it depended on where you heard the legend), in a world that was out of balance. The spirits had been wreaking havoc for all the humans who lived in the lands, until the Ice Witch had gone on a quest to restore balance to the world. Depending on who was telling the legend, the quest the Ice Witch had embarked on varied. But, they all agreed that one day, she left the lands of Arendelle and the Northuldra, and locked herself away in a castle made of ice on the North Mountain. Or Ahtohallan, if you asked the Northuldra.

To this day, the Northuldra for one would leave offerings to the Ice Witch and all of the spirits she had tamed, and the spirits had blessed the Northuldra in return. Even if no one had seen the Ice Witch, she still blessed the tribe as if she had received them.

The moment Áppá declared that only the Ice Witch could help them, other voices of the Northuldra spoke up when the silence returned.

_ “Why would she help us?” _

_ “She’s abandoned us now.” _

Everything was a variant on either theme, until Honeymaren’s brother spoke up in between complaints. “Who would go looking for her?”

It was the only thing said that tried to take Áppá’s words at value, and once again brought quiet to the hut, but not due to the same respect that had been shown to Áppá. Instead, no one could believe that Ryder had spoken up, and with such a … crazy idea. But with no one stepping up and either shooting down the idea (yet) or volunteering to go, Honeymaren spoke up without thinking.

“I’ll go.”

The silence turned into hushed whispers at her declaration. To visit the Ice Witch was unheard of, and while Honeymaren was one of the foremost protectors of their group, some were not willing to let her go on what they were suddenly declaring to be a fool’s errand.

_ “You can’t leave us!” _ a few shouted, but Honeymaren didn’t listen to them. Instead she looked over at her twin brother, and then over at Yelana. They both knew that it didn’t matter what anyone else would say, they would follow Yelana’s lead and whatever she decided.

And then, as if on cue, Yelana’s voice raised itself up to drown out the other voices. Where Áppá got silence because of his age and elder status, Yelana got silence because everyone recognized her as their leader.

“Honeymaren will go and beseech the Ice Witch on our behalf. We have no choice at this point. It is either try a plan everyone else thinks is crazy, or we let this winter defeat us.” Yelana’s tone allowed for no argument, and even the other voices suddenly started to agree with her.

_ “If Yelana thinks it is a good idea.” _

_ “Honeymaren is truly our best chance.” _

With the voices of the tribe humming in agreement, Yelana smiled thinly and nodded her head. “We will send Honeymaren to find the Ice Witch, and in the meantime we will travel farther from our village each day to get what we need. This winter will not win.”

Honeymaren took that as her cue, and pushed her way to the center of the gathered circle. While internally, she was vibrating with the idea of going on an epic adventure to be told in legend one day, she kept a solemn expression on her face and glanced around at her people, a hand over her heart. “I swear to you all, that I will not rest, that I will not return, until I have saved us all,” she proclaimed. It was a bold thing to say, yes, but Honeymaren had already put it into her mind that if she did not succeed in her new mission, then she might as well not return to the Northuldra at all.

She wouldn’t think about failure, she couldn’t think about failure. Because failure meant things she was not prepared for.

A hand on her shoulder returned Honeymaren to the moment, and she looked forward, seeing her elder, her leader staring deep into her eyes. “You will succeed, my child. And you will do more than save our people,” Yelana’s voice cracked slightly as she spoke, her eyes holding a look that could have hinted that she could see the future, but more than anything probably was meant to get Honeymaren going immediately. With the hush that was now calming the gathered crowd, Yelana raised her voice one final time to dismiss everyone, although her hand kept Honeymaren tethered to her spot.

She knew that Yelana wasn’t done with her, and she knew that Ryder would be next in line to either be excited for her or scold her for taking such a wild risk.

Minutes later, they were alone in the tent – alone except for Ryder, that is – and Yelana guided Honeymaren over to a log she used as a bench, seating herself on the bench as well and nonverbally directing Ryder to sit on some skins on the floor.

“It will be dangerous, Honeymaren, are you sure you want to do this?” the elder asked.

To her credit, Yelana wasn’t trying to talk Honeymaren out of anything. The young reindeer herder didn’t want her voice to betray her, so instead she nodded her head in confirmation. All three of them knew that Honeymaren was too restless to be even a reindeer herder, but now wasn’t the time for “I told you so” or trying to talk anyone out of their destiny.

Instead, Ryder simply reached forward and grabbed her ankle, shaking it in a supportive motion, and the three of them started to plan Honeymaren’s big quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, I have no beta reader, so all errors are absolutely mine. I have a not-entirely-vague thought process on how this is all going to play out, but do I know how long it's going to take me? Nope. Especially since I have been deemed an "essential health care worker" who still has to go and work during a pandemic.
> 
> Stay safe!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And thus Honeymaren's journey begins. And happens. And ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide until I began writing this chapter how long it was going to be, since I wanted to set up how this journey is really going to rip Honeymaren from the world that she knows and loves, but I knew I was going to put it into one chapter because no one wants to read four (4) chapters of someone riding/walking through a terrible winter. Besides, when I decided that this chapter was going to end with Honeymaren vs. hypothermia, I just knew that I wanted this chapter to be long since that would help convey exactly what I was putting Honeymaren through. If that gets put across correctly. Also, time to sooner set up our fav pair, right?

A fortnight later, Honeymaren was packed and ready to go, and it seemed the spirits had decided to shine some favor on her journey, as the skies had been clear for a few days, even if it was bitingly cold. Packed on the back of a reindeer her brother had assured was his hardiest, Honeymaren was saying goodbye to many of the Northuldra who had come to see her off.

Few of them treated her like they would never see her again, while others acted like she would barely be gone at all. She supposed they all had their ways of dealing with departure. But none of their farewells had bothered her, because none of them meant as much to her as Ryder and Yelana did. And their goodbyes would be the worst, she knew. An aisle had cleared in front of her, and Honeymaren had to fight to hold back the tears that burned at her eyes when she saw Yelana slowly walking towards her. Behind her, Ryder stood awkwardly, a look on his face that showed his sadness and uncomfortableness, even without the connection they shared.

She couldn’t move. She didn’t want to move, because that would release the dam on her nerves, and that would mean that she finally was to leave.

Thankfully, Ryder was the one who had to move first, as he was prodded forward by Yelana’s walking stick until he was standing in front of his sister. For the past week, Honeymaren had been trying to avoid the idea of doing something without her twin. Even though Ryder had volunteered to go with her, both Honeymaren and Yelana had insisted that he stay and tend to the reindeer. The herd could manage without one of the twins, but without both of them? All three of them knew that it would have been a terrible idea. That didn't make Ryder any less mope-y, nor did it make Honeymaren feel any less guilty about her choice.

If there was noise around them, Honeymaren couldn't hear it. Ryder had moved first, so it was only fair that she took the initiative in this. "You take care of yourself, and Yelana, okay?" she demanded, not even paying attention to his response, "and be prepared to move the herd farther and farther away if that's where the grasses are. And you'll have to go out with the other herders since I'm not going to be here for a while." She was saying _anything_ now to avoid saying goodbye. Anything to avoid saying the final words. Not when there was a feeling in her stomach that matched the tone of the farewells that treated her like she never was going to return to her people.

"I know," was all Ryder said in reply. "I still could come with you, even for part of the journey." Of course he would try and offer again. The siblings were nothing if not persistent. Honeymaren only shook her head, knowing that as much as she wanted her brother's company, she had to stick by her stance of going at this alone.

Thankfully, Yelana saved them from turning the goodbye into bickering, as she smiled warmly at Honeymaren and pulled her into a hug (something Honeymaren could count on two hands happening to her in her life). "You make our ancestors proud, and you will make us all proud," the old woman murmured into the shepherdess's hair. She knew that Yelana was proud of her, she'd often expressed it in her own way, but this display threw Honeymaren.

“Th-Thank you,” Honeymaren stammered out, stumbling over even the few words that she had left.

"Now, it's time for you to go." That's all it took to re-set Honeymaren's resolve, which Yelana took as her cue to grab Honeymaren's arm to guide her towards the packed reindeer, with Ryder on their heels. The rest of the Northuldra didn't follow them, happy with their goodbyes, which left the three of them blissfully alone. And as Honeymaren packed the last of her supplies, she listened to Yelana’s final instructions.

“Go first to the shore of the Dark Sea, and see if there is any sign of the Ice Witch at Ahtohallan. If not, ride to the North Mountain. Your path will be dangerous, but the spirits will guide you.”

Honeymaren knew, they had talked about this several times as they had looked over the only maps they had – curled things that were possibly as old as Yelana, even if Honeymaren wouldn’t say that. Part of her wanted to say that she knew, that the plan hadn’t changed, but she thought better of it, sure that an attitude wouldn’t help.

“Yes, Yelana,” was all she did end up saying as she grabbed the lead rope attached to the reindeer’s halter and urging the best to begin walking with her out of the Northuldra village.

She knew that if she turned and looked back, she could see Ryder standing there long after everyone else had returned to their normal activities. But if she turned back, then she would feel her heart break completely in two.

\------❄️❄️------

Already Honeymaren had traveled farther away from her home than she could ever imagine, and she was only on the fifth day of her journey. Ryder had been right, the reindeer he had chosen for her was a good one; the beast had been keeping up with the harried pace Honeymaren had set in her desire to find the Ice Witch as soon as possible and save her people before the winter took any more from them.

She had been rationing the jerky that she had brought with her, and as she got farther from her people’s valley, she saw just how poorly the rest of the lands had been faring during the winter. She hadn’t seen any hares, or any of the other small game animals she would have used for a food supply. Not even much sign of the larger game, and thankfully no signs of any carnivores that she would have to fight for food.

Even this far south (how funny, that a place south of the Northuldra was called the **_North_** _Mountain_ ), the conditions had not improved. What wasn’t covered with ice was covered with snow, and what wasn’t covered with either was filled with _cold_.

It was that type of cold that got through even her warmest and layered leathers and furs, making her pace slow even now. Her steps felt like she was breaking through ice with each stride she made, and it was a labored effort even for her companion.

More exhausted than when she had started out in the morning, Honeymaren stopped in her tracks, pulling on the lead rope to stop the reindeer. Without a word (she didn’t have the energy to speak right now), she started unpacking just enough supplies for them to rest for the night.

A small lavvu for her, and a tether in the frozen ground to keep the reindeer close, Honeymaren didn’t even try for a fire, even if that probably would have been a good idea to thaw her frozen limbs.

She barely made it into her lavvu before her eyes closed and she was fast asleep.

\-----------

She didn’t know how many days she had been traveling (nine days), and she was now alone.

Her reindeer bolted some time during the night, presumably related to the howling of wolves that kept on getting closer. When Honeymaren had woken up and poked her head out of the lavvu, only to find no sign of the reindeer except hoofprints leading away from the site, she feared the worst.

“ _Ah-aah-ah-aah_ ,” she sang out, lålning to try and entice the reindeer to come back.

She was only met with silence.

Honeymaren didn’t want to think about what that silence meant, so she busied herself with packing up her belongings, rearranging things to condense it all into a single pack she could wear on her back. She couldn’t fit everything and still walk, so she started putting aside anything she could deem as non-essential.

A change of clothes, supplies for her lavvu, the remaining food she had left, and a flask for water – that was all she could carry.

Snow had started to fall by the time she got on her feet and started walking, and the wind began to pick up the longer she walked, which didn’t bode well for her day of walking.

Was she close? She forgot how far the maps had said the North Mountain was, but the landscapes all looked the same as it was, and her footsteps brushed away each night with the howling of the winds, so she could have been well and truly lost for all she knew.

Hell, she could have been lost this entire time and she never would’ve known it.

After all, she was looking for a _castle_ made of **_ice_ ** that belonged to a mythical Ice Witch that may or may not actually exist. So yeah, she probably was lost. Or out of her mind.

\------❄️❄️------

Time didn’t exist anymore.

The blizzard had started after Honeymaren had lost her reindeer, and it essentially hadn’t stopped. Even her lavvu didn’t do much at what she approximated as night time, it just limited her exposure to the wind. But she was still cold all the time, to the point where she shivered while she slept.

Honeymaren was tired, so _tired_.

She was tired and she was hungry, as she had run out of food a day earlier (or what she assumed to be a day earlier), and hadn’t had the energy to try and create a fire during the blizzard to melt enough snow for her to fill her flask.

Each snowbank looked comfortable enough to sleep on, and each shadow looked like some hungry creature looking for a meal out of a starved Northuldra girl. As if she would be able to provide any meal, they all probably thought she was fatter than her actual size. Not very tasty, sorry wolves and lynxes.

Her legs burned as she walked, which was probably a rational mind’s only indication that she was climbing, but Honeymaren’s mind didn’t dwell too long on rational – since that definitely took too much energy. 

How long had she been walking? How long had she been traveling? Why was she even here in the first place?

The questions had lost their answers the more she walked, but Honeymaren only knew how to keep walking, despite every shivering fiber of her body willing her to _stop_. She must walk, she must find … someone. Someone to do Something to save Someone.

Not that she could see her own hand in the complete blizzard that surrounded her, let alone some magical Being of legend. Right? She was looking for a Legendary Someone?

Inhale.

Step.

Exhale.

Pause.

Inhale.

Step.

Exhale.

Pause.

Every few steps, she would use a lålning call looking for her reindeer, as if she had misplaced the large beast.

“ _Ah-aah-ah-aah_.”

Sometimes, if she hadn’t started moving again and listened carefully, she could swear she heard a voice respond. Then again, she also swore that she had seen the spire of an ice castle, and a warm campfire in the distance, among other things, but her eyes had been playing tricks on her in the maelstrom of snow.

“I s’ink- I think Imma jus gonn –” Honeymaren started to say out loud to no one in particular, as her body started to shut down on her, losing consciousness in the middle of the forest of the North Mountain.

So this was how her legendary adventure would end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Honeymaren's got "the Voice" and its kulning from Frozen II. Despite the fact that the events don't technically exist in the framework of this fic, I'm still going to be trying to incorporate elements from both films.
> 
> Once again, I have no beta, so I apologize that you all had to put up with my two days of writing fever about the worst Hero's Journey™ in the history of possibly ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa saves Honeymaren from her perilous journey and gets a bit of human interaction for the first time in forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I plan on writing 5 chapters of fic in like 3 days? Absolutely not. But, that is exactly what I've done. That being said, time to discuss this chapter briefly.
> 
> I know it's long and Elsa seems kinda frantic at points, in a different way than we've experienced Elsa, but I felt like with her extreme isolation and how she still cares for people, those two things being put together with the suddenness of hearing a disembodied voice kind of explains it? Also, as Elsa has been living alone for so long, and she's still had to eat despite her youth and longevity, she's going to have become quite self-sufficient. When I mention disguising herself to go to Oaken's, it's mostly going to be for things she can't hunt, forage, or craft herself – cloth, candles, a very small number of her supplies. Oaken's is like a once-every-other-year trip.

This winter had been harsh, even by Elsa’s standards. And something felt _off_ about it, like it was pulling at her magic – taunting it – and knowing that she didn’t have much left to fend it off. All she could do was study the magic as if it would help her regain her own magic, or as if she could fix things the way she was.

That was perhaps the benefit of her magic being a part of her, if very dormant. She had lived through many winters – caused a few herself – but she could tell that this winter felt _off_. Felt dark. The thought of someone else having control over the ice and snow sent a shiver down her spine, despite the cozy heat of her fire.

She was grateful for the cave shelter that the Earth Giants had helped her build when she first came to the North Mountain, since it kept her sheltered from the elements and did a decent job of keeping in the heat of her fire. It was the homiest place she had lived outside of the goahti during her time living with the Northuldra.

Elsa was here now, left alone to be whatever she was. Fifth Spirit, Bridge of Nature, Guardian of the Fjord, Snow Queen, Ice Witch, whatever name the peoples of Arendelle and the Northuldra called her these days, if they believed in her at all. It’d be nice if they had stopped believing in her, stopped expecting her to act like some pet that performed tricks on command to help extend the harvest or give a white Yule or whatever they thought she did. 

Once upon a time, she did those things willingly, to help her people, but that had been too long ago and with many more people who loved her alive.

These days, she wrote about the magic she felt, or about whatever memory-dream about Anna had come to her in the night. Sometimes she read, one of the same volumes that she’d already read dozens of times. When it became too much for her to stay inside, she would venture outside to hunt. Hares were scarce, deer even moreso, and she’d considered herself lucky to trap a fox or shoot enough squirrels for stew or jerky.

This morning’s hunt had been successful – which was rare enough – and Elsa had skinned the hare to roast it over her fire. It was a task that she had done countless times, enough where she could let her mind wander as long as she kept an eye on the meat.

It was peaceful, quiet except for the crackling sounds of the fire, accompanied by the light sizzling of the hare carcass. Until she heard _it_.

 _Ah-aah-ah-aah_.

Startled, Elsa’s spine stiffened, her head darting around in search of the voice. It didn’t feel like her magic, the call was not the same as when she had become the Spirit, but it still tugged at _something_ within her. Bright blue eyes searched the firelit darkness, but then turned back to her preparations with a huff and sag of her shoulders.

Why did she think that someone would be there? She hadn’t had a friend in so long, she’d only spoken to her fellow spirits until even they had left her years ago, and she had been forgotten about just like she had hoped. Elsa didn’t expect anyone there, so why did she suddenly want it?

With a shake of her head to dispel such thoughts, Elsa returned her focus on the hare and started thinking about something mundane, like her supplies. This would only last her for tonight and the beginning of tomorrow, so she’d have to go and hunt or scavenge once the sun rose.

\------❄️❄️------

When Elsa started to go outside the morning after her hare dinner, the blizzard had intensified to create a veritable wall of wind, giving her pause. This wasn’t Gale’s work, it was too mixed into the snow for it to be an angry Wind Spirit. And while the cold of the storm didn’t bother Elsa’s comfort, the visibility was too low for her to find anything, so she turned around and slunk back into her cave.

The storm had continued like that for four more sleeps, days becoming irrelevant when the darkness didn’t seem to budge from the sky. But Elsa rationed out her stores as she waited, and tried to not go stir-crazy.

She worked on the hare fur she was tanning to begin a new blanket for her bed, and when she was in danger of over-working it, Elsa stopped and tried to busy herself with anything else. Elsa did inventory, making a note of supplies she could use when she disguised herself and went down the mountain to Oaken’s Post.

Elsa had run out of things to do, and could feel herself becoming close to destructive. Restless thoughts coursed through her mind like a raging river, the blood rushing through her ears like a violent waterfall, thoughts about nothing in particular but still all-consuming. Until she heard _it_ again.

_Ah-aah-ah-aah._

The voice pulled at her, it stilled her mind yet made her feet want to move; it was a siren song that wanted to crash her up against the rocks and she would let it. She wouldn’t say that she was suddenly calmed and ready to stay inside, but she certainly felt less destructive and far from unmoored. Or, if she was unmoored, at least she was drifting towards something.

Hurriedly, Elsa put on her boots and hat and then slipped out the cave entrance. Frantically she looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. Instead, she heard the call.

_Ah-aah-ah-aah._

It would do.

And Elsa trudged through the freshly-fallen snow, she realized that she probably should have paused to put on some snowshoes. It was too late to turn back now, as she kept on walking towards the direction she kept on hearing the voice from.

Each time it sang out, Elsa would get her bearings, but as soon as the voice went away, she would pick up her pace in a sort of mad dash to find whoever was on her mountain. She wasn’t sure why she was so frantic – that she was desperate for a human not at Oaken’s post, or that the voice called out to a magic that Elsa needed, or even just the kindness of worrying about a traveler who was climbing the North Mountain in a blizzard – but she had to get there.

As more minutes passed after the last burst of song without another, Elsa cut her way through the snow harder, checking every shadow and tree and snowbank for something.

And then, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw something. It was a brown heap, the color of her furs and leathers, and when Elsa approached, she saw that the heap was a girl. A girl who was shivering and quite possibly about to die if she was left out here. Without pausing to think, Elsa crouched down and laid the girl out, positioning the two of them until she had the unconscious body draped over her shoulders.

Elsa pushed herself up, her muscles groaning at the sudden effort, but she held tight to the girl, taking care to walk back in her existing footfalls. It wouldn’t do to get stuck in a snowdrift that hadn’t been beaten down, not when a life hung in the balance. She moved like she was treading in molten chocolate, her progress slowed with the extra body weight, but she pushed. She pushed through until she reached the entrance of her cave. Elsa didn’t dare put the girl down until she was fully inside, until there was something warm to help her.

Once Elsa got to her bed, she placed the girl onto it and bundled her up, turning to stoke up her central fire. A peculiar purple-ish flame skittered towards the bed, no doubt wanting to inspect the intruder. Spying it, Elsa turned to watch it move, which in turn made it stop.

“Bruni, please warm her up. She’s very cold,” Elsa asked softly, watching as the fiery little salamander, her lone remaining companion, chirped and skittered into the bed, providing heat under the blankets as Elsa headed to the fire.

This stranger brought many questions with her, ones that Elsa intended to get answers to as soon as she was well. In the meantime, all she could do was warm the girl up and prepare for when she did wake up.

\------❄️❄️------

Her whole body felt heavy, and warm, and her eyes didn’t want to open, but Honeymaren presumed that meant she was alive, because death did not feel like a bed, right? It definitely didn’t feel dry and pleasant, so she somehow had survived.

But the question was, where was she to have survived? She had avoided all settlements, and no soul lived this close to the North Mountain. Honeymaren didn’t believe that the _Ice Witch_ had saved her, since she clearly didn’t exist anymore.

The longer she laid there, the less wooden and weighted her limbs felt, and when she finally could move something, she shifted her body to try and sit up, a low groan escaping her throat. Honeymaren could only half-sit up, propping herself up on her elbows to look around. The blanket covering her fell, exposing the dry, unfamiliar clothes she was wearing. Tentatively, Honeymaren reached up to touch the soft elk-skin of her shirt, when out of the corner of her eye she swore she saw fire skittering from the bed.

Her eyes followed the vanished fire, coming to rest on the form of a person crouched next to a fire. It was … a _woman_. And if Honeymaren were a romantic, she would say that the woman’s beauty made her mouth run dry. It could have been accurate, as she was stunning in a way that Honeymaren had never seen before in her life. Her hair was so blonde it was almost as white as snow, and her skin seemed even paler than that, both of which were a contrast from the dark hominess of her surroundings. The Light (as her brain called her) was focusing intently on something in a pot that she was mixing, her lips twisted up into one of her cheeks as she looked to be thinking.

While Honeymaren was staring, The Light turned away from her work and noticed her guest was sitting up. In an instant, the pot was forgotten and she got up, rushing over to the bedside. “You’re awake,” she announced, reaching out as if to touch her, before The Light paused. “How are you feeling?”

It was a simple enough question, and Honeymaren looked around before replying. “How long have I been here? Where am I? My clothes?” Not so much a reply as questions, trying to get her bearings. If this woman’s home was a stop on the way to the Ice Witch, then she would be on her way to continue. Despite how The Light’s eyes – which now that Honeymaren looked at were astonishingly blue, like a clear summer’s day – commanded her to stay still.

The Light didn’t seem surprised by the questions, or at least her face didn’t show any surprise at the reaction. “I found you in a snowbank after the blizzard and brought you here, to my home,” she started, gesturing around at the interior.

With the motion, Honeymaren looked around and took in things beyond what she initially saw. There was an armchair covered in fur (wolf?) that looked well-used, and a shelf of books next to it. On the opposite wall, she saw tanner’s hoops with furs stretched out on them, and further along she spotted a bow, some hung snares, snowshoes, and her staff. It looked rather like a goahti, except made out of a cave instead of furs and wood. Honeymaren couldn’t keep looking around, as the other woman spoke again.

“You’ve been asleep for three days. As for your clothes, they were caked with snow, so I changed you into some of my spares,” she continued, looking down at Honeymaren for the first time, as if actually _seeing_ her in her clothes, and snapped her gaze upward. “What were you doing on the North Mountain in a blizzard? Alone?”

It wasn’t a question of judgement, or about to call Honeymaren crazy, but the blonde essentially beat Honeymaren to the question she was about to ask.

Deciding that she could trust this odd beautiful mountain woman with the truth, Honeymaren scooted herself a little further back so she was seated. Opening her mouth to speak, her tale was interrupted before it began by the very loud rumbling of her stomach. Which, if The Light was telling the truth, she hadn’t truly eaten in maybe close to a week at this point. “I will tell you, but perhaps do you have anything to eat?” she asked with a slightly shamefaced look, to which the blonde nodded in response.

“Of course, I have had stew ready for when you would wake up!” she declared, hurriedly getting up and crouching by the fire. Taking a wooden bowl in hand, she scooped two large ladlefuls of what was in the pot before walking over with a spoon plunked in.

Gratefully, Honeymaren took the proffered spoon and bowl and slowly began to eat. And eat, and eat, as the stew was delicious with meat and vegetables. That realization made her feel just a little bit guilty, as she was clearly using up the woman’s precious resources during this season. “Thank you.” It was all she could offer besides her story.

“Eat,” The Light soothed, “eat first, and then you can tell me your story.”

\------❄️❄️------

Elsa couldn’t believe her ears as Honeymaren – as the stranger revealed her name to be – told her story. A member of the Northuldra who had come for the Ice Witch for help, Elsa was in awe that they still had such faith in her after all of this time. Well, the story itself wasn’t the most fascinating, but Elsa couldn’t help but be interested in how a Northuldra had wandered this far south to find her instead of going to where most believed she was.

So she listened, occasionally getting up to refill Honeymaren’s stew bowl or to bring her some water. Elsa didn’t dare fill in parts of Honeymaren’s story yet, but she figured she would have to either tell the woman that she was who she was looking for, or find a way not to send her out into her death.

“So what about you?” Elsa’s thoughts were jarred back to reality by Honeymaren’s question.

“What about me?”

Honeymaren threw Elsa a look that said ‘ _nice try, you’re not gonna get out of answering that_ ’, with a familiarity that seemed too fast, yet Elsa was starved for it. “How did you get here? Why are you here?”

Simple enough questions, despite the heartbreak in each answer. “I’ve been here for a long time. I had a job that required me to be far away from the people I loved, and this was where I stayed,” she answered. Not entirely the truth, but enough to not be a full lie. No use exposing herself as a failure right away.

At Elsa’s answer, Honeymaren frowned at the idea of being forced to stay away from loved ones. But the look of sadness that haunted Elsa’s face when she had given her answer gave Honeymaren pause about digging deeper about that response. “Do you know how I can find the Ice Witch’s castle? Since you’ve lived on this mountain for so long?” The sooner she could get her answer, the sooner she could be on her way, and on her way back to her people, she’d maybe stop and invite Elsa to join her.

However, Elsa shook her head, which threw a bucket of freezing water over her enthusiasm.

“The castle doesn’t exist. It fell decades ago. The other spirits have all left her to protect the lands elsewhere.”

And Honeymaren could swear, when Elsa said that, that she could see the complete heartbreak on the blonde’s face, as if she was the one who had lost the castle and the other spirits. Which would be impossible, for Elsa was _her age_. The Ice Witch was old, older than Yelana, and Yelana looked old.

Yeah, completely impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: "elk" in Europe, and therefore this story, actually refers to what North Americans call "moose" (alces alces), versus "elk" (cervus canadensis), which as a hunter makes me way more impressed because elk are big but moose are insanely huge.
> 
> OK, cool story, I've waffled a lot on aspects of this fic (chiefly, what direction Elsa's powers would have taken following the deaths of Anna & co., and a few other things), but then I thought about it and I didn't want out-of-control Elsa Magic to be the antagonist of this fic in fear of making it basically Frozen-lite (which is another fic I thought about writing at one point but I like what I'm planning on writing instead).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa brings Honeymaren to the ruins of her once-majestic Ice Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hark! An update after the week I've had; which mostly was me dealing with conflicting muses (someone please write me ElsaMaren AUs ~loosely based on any of the following: The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, or A Knight's Tale so that I don't have to do it) and working my ass off.

It had been three days since Honeymaren had woken, and all the newcomer had done (it felt like) was ask Elsa questions about the Ice Witch. Not just about the Witch, but also about Elsa, completely unaware that they were one and the same.

Meanwhile, Elsa wanted to get Honeymaren as well-equipped as possible to send her back down the mountain. Away from Elsa, away from having questions, away from having a stupidly noble idea on how to save the land.

Yes, the sooner Elsa could send Honeymaren on her way, the sooner Elsa could be left in solitude.

But if that had really been what Elsa wanted, she would’ve given Honeymaren supplies from her stores and practically shoved her down the mountain, wolves and blizzards regardless. Instead, here she was, trudging through a new snow leading Honeymaren on a fruitless quest to find the being she once had been. She couldn’t understand nor explain why she was doing this, even if she was sure she could hear Anna’s voice in the silence of the mountain.

‘ _Because you want her to stay. You want her to do what I once did_ ,’ the Fake-Anna’s-Voice giggled in her ear, earning an annoyed swat at the nothingness.

“She doesn’t belong here,” Elsa muttered to herself as she trudged forward. “She belongs with her people, to help them through the winter.” Honeymaren was several yards behind Elsa, her lungs not used to the thin air of the North Mountain which necessitated her slower pace. Which, thankfully, left her out of range from hearing Elsa talk to herself like someone who had gone insane.

‘ _You remember what_ _Ahtohallan showed us. That a bridge needs two ends. You’re half of a bridge, Elsa. A bridge that needs to be rebuilt. You can’t stop what’s coming if you don’t fix yourself._ ’ It was annoying, when Fake-Anna’s-Voice was right, typical of the real Anna. It was right even down to the caring, indignant tone that Anna used whenever Elsa needed to be reminded that she was part-human too.

Frustrated with the fake argument that she was losing, Elsa halted in her tracks and turned to check on her hiking companion. Honeymaren was moving along, albeit slower than Elsa’s pace, but she hadn’t asked for any breaks nor complained, which earned the Northuldra some respect from Elsa.

‘ _Elsa, you’re lonely. You’ve been alone for so long, and you can’t count those trips to Oaken’s. You don’t even talk when you’re there!_ ’ her internal Anna pointed out, _‘just give her a chance. She may surprise you._ ’

Sighing, the blonde had to cede that point to Anna’s voice (Fake-Anna’s-Voice). “Fine. I won’t send her home yet.” At the admission, the voice squealed in her ear, which concerned Elsa that she was finally being haunted all of these years later, instead of simply going crazy.

Thankfully, Honeymaren had finally caught up to her, saving Elsa from confronting either reality. She wasn’t completely struggling to breathe, which made sense for a woman from the Northuldra. As Elsa let Honeymaren catch her breath, the spirit spoke. “We’re almost to the ruins.” The sooner she got this show-and-tell over with, the sooner she wouldn’t have to deal with pleas from her guest to take her to find the Ice Witch.

Honeymaren nodded before digging into the small pouch Elsa had lent her, pulling out a hunk of reindeer jerky out and popping it into her mouth. They hadn’t stopped to eat since they had set out from the cave, a fact she had been trying to ignore in her rush to get to the ruins, but that came back to kick her in the ass as her stomach grumbled in response to her eyes watching Honeymaren eat.

In response, Elsa reached into the pouch resting against her own hip and pulled out a morsel of jerky, quietly lamenting that it was among the last meat of her stores before placing it into her mouth as well. Silence settled as they both chewed, until Honeymaren gestured forward with the staff she was holding onto.

She must have been saving her words for when they reached what was left of the castle, or she didn’t have enough breath to speak. Either way, Elsa was relieved for it, since she didn’t exactly know how to be around real people anymore.

Turning around, Elsa resumed their trek, this time turning around more frequently to check if Honeymaren was close behind her. With each step, she could feel a heavy burden grow more and more on her heart, dreading the moment when she was going to be confronted with the starkest reminder of when her powers started to fail.

\------❄️❄️------

Another hour of climbing later, Elsa stopped abruptly, causing Honeymaren to walk smack into her. Elsa didn’t seem to notice the collision, as if she was frozen in place by something in front of her.

Honeymaren seemed to take that as a cue, looking around at their surroundings. Due to the relatively fresh snow, she didn’t see much of anything on the slopes around them. In fact, the only things around that seemed slightly odd for a mountain peak were the mounds of snow in places snow shouldn’t have built up against.

“We’re here,” Elsa said dully, trying to push down the unbidden memories that came every time she visited the ruins of her castle. “The Snow Queen, her castle wasn’t entirely made of ice. If you … the ruins of what she had are all there.” She could have led Honeymaren on a tour through each area of the ruins, showed her each room that looked like the Arendelle Royal Castle, or the rooms she had created for the Snowgies. Instead, she didn’t wait for her guest to ask, or to even say anything, before she peeled away and walked towards a part of the ruins far from what used to be the castle.

She quickly glanced over her shoulder to see if Honeymaren was watching her – and, pleased that the other woman was walking towards what Elsa had pointed out as the ruins – she knelt down into the snow and removed her gloves. By habit, she reached into the snow and started building a small snowman, a miniature version of Olaf. And after Olaf, she moved on and made a tiny replica of Sven. After Sven, she made a Kristoff. Once Kristoff was finished, Elsa molded a small version of Anna.

After the snow versions of her friends were completed, a sad smile crept across her face. “Hi Anna, Kristoff, boys,” she murmured sadly, “I know it’s been a while, but you know how much I hate coming here.”

Elsa’s eyes settled on Olaf’s likeness, trying not to think about how Olaf’s presence was the thing that had hurt the most when her powers faded. He had been the most stalwart reminder of Anna, and of their days together; reminding her how to be human (even if he was a snowman), the closest thing to family that Elsa had for years after Anna’s death. He had been the first of her creations to fall, heralding the loss of her powers and the desertion of Gale, the Nokk, and the rock giants.

“The winter’s getting worse, it’s even affecting the Northuldra, far from the mountain’s shadow. One of them even came looking for me. Even if I don’t have the magic that she’s looking for. I don’t think I’ll ever have that magic again,” Elsa admitted, feeling tears start to well behind her eyes. Blessedly, she didn’t hear Fake-Anna’s-Voice or Imagined-Olaf or even Memory-Kristoff with his Fake-Sven. Sure, she could argue with the ghost of her sister’s voice, but this … if she heard them now she would have broken. “I know you said I need to rebuild the bridge, Anna, but I won’t, not when it’s just going to end like …” she trailed off, the tears escaping her attempt to hold them in and her voice breaking “... like you.” Elsa closed her eyes and felt the hot tears roll down her cheek, and let out a quiet sob to try and regain her composure. “There’s no proof it would work anyway. And it wouldn’t help me stop whatever magic is creating this winter.”

She didn’t say anything further, she just knelt in the snow and looked lovingly on the faces of the friends and family she missed, the tears burning as they fell. She hoped that Honeymaren would take her time exploring the ruins so she could have these moments with her dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for everything ending with some form of an unintentional cliffhanger – I've spent my entire writing and school years being absolutely terrible at conclusions and/or ending things. I think it's a brain wiring thing. But, I'm going to be in a fever of writing to try and get the "other half" of this chapter done – I needed the heaviness of Elsa's grief separate from Honeymaren's experience in the ruins.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Honeymaren starts to really see, and yet she keep refuses to see the hints right in front of her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I know I had promised to be in a writing fever after the last chapter, and I totally was. And I had the chapter basically done, but then I said to myself, "self, how can I make these lesbians break my soul even more?" So, then this chapter continued for like 3 more days.
> 
> I also realized something as I was writing this chapter. This fic obviously takes place during winter, which means ... this fic will celebrate Christmas! In April!

Everything about the North Mountain since Honeymaren had woken up in Elsa’s cave had been unnervingly quiet. In her experience, still nature meant that there was something unnatural afoot, and in this case that either meant herself, Elsa, or something neither of them knew about. And judging by how Elsa moved through the snow and how she lived in her cave shelter, she was _not_ the something unnatural.

The entire time they had been climbing, Honeymaren couldn’t shake the feeling that reminded her of being watched. Which was ridiculous, since the only other living soul for miles had been walking ahead of her.

When they finally arrived at the place Elsa said was the ruins, Honeymaren noticed how her voice fell flat as she said it. Had Elsa come up here like Honeymaren, hoping to find the Ice Witch and being disappointed when she couldn’t find her? Was that why her voice did that? Had she lost friends in the quest? Not that Elsa had been all sunshine and rainbows back in the cave, but she seemed … broken coming here. At once, Honeymaren felt guilty about insisting that Elsa show her.

Without much more than her announcement, Elsa walked away from Honeymaren, leaving the brunette to explore on her own. “Oh. Okay,” Honeymaren murmured to no one in particular before setting off to explore.

As she wandered through the drifts of snow, she paused occasionally to poke through one with her staff. While Elsa was right, not much of the castle was standing, Honeymaren found bits of a life within the castle that proved it had once been here. In one snowbank, she found what remained of a chess set carved out of bone. In another, piles of buttons as if clothing had once been there. Towards the farthest of the piles, she found a necklace that had a locket with some sort of unreadable engraving on it. She pocketed the necklace, wanting to take a closer look at it when they were back at the cave.

The feeling on the back of her neck continued, but every time Honeymaren looked over her shoulder, all she saw was Elsa kneeling on the ground. She couldn’t see what was in front of the other woman, so she let her be. 

To pass the time while Elsa did – whatever it was Elsa did – Honeymaren continued to poke through the ruins, seeing more bits of ruin that indicated that the castle was truly that – a castle. And it ran very contrary to what she had seen of Elsa, which helped put that absolutely ridiculous notion out of her mind. Not that it had stayed and haunted the back of her mind whenever Elsa spoke about the Ice Witch. No, ma’am.

Occasionally she glanced over to check on her companion, trying not to get curious as to what she was doing. And the moment that Elsa stood herself up and brushed the snow off of her pants, Honeymaren stopped her fake searching and walked back towards the spot they had split up from. When she finally was close enough to Elsa to really see her, there was something about Elsa’s face and how she held her shoulders that made Honeymaren want to say something (anything really), but she realized that they were still near-perfect strangers and anything she said would be out of place.

“I’m sure you’re dying to say ‘I told you so’,” was all Honeymaren could offer, forcing a crooked smile across her face while she nudged the blonde. And to her surprise, Elsa offered something that looked suspiciously like a smile back, and if her ears weren’t mistaking her, maybe a chuckle had slipped out as well.

 _‘Even that smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen’_ , Honeymaren thought, surprising herself with the thought. Sure, she had thought of Elsa as beautiful when she first woke up, but she had rationalized it to herself that she had been drowsy from her brush with death and had viewed the woman as an angel. But this was an entirely different type of thinking, thinking about a woman like that when her people needed a hero and not a romantic.

“Ready?” Elsa asked as she reached into her pouch to grab another bit of jerky and pop it into her mouth.

Honeymaren nodded her head. “Yeah. Anything to get out of this place. Something’s not right here,” she admitted, which earned her a surprised look from Elsa – as if she didn’t expect Honeymaren to feel it.

Taking that as her cue to start walking, Elsa started, her pace slower than on their way up the mountain, which enabled Honeymaren to walk at a closer distance. And even though Elsa was already steps ahead of the Northuldra, Honeymaren could swear she heard Elsa mutter, “there’s nothing right on this mountain”.

\------❄️❄️------

The hike back was as quiet as the hike up, except the silence was more companionable and less hostile. It worked out well for Honeymaren, since angry silence was the least comfortable type of silence. Which, coincidentally, made it her least favorite type.

And while Honeymaren had seen the evidence that the Ice Witch was – what? Gone? Depowered? Actually on Ahtohallan all this time? – which meant that she needed to resume her journey, she thought Elsa could still help. And it was easier to get help when things were good.

The sun was close to setting, and Elsa’s pace slowed down when they could see the entrance to the cave, and Honeymaren hurried to catch up with her. “So, I was thinking,” she started, “I feel bad that you’ve had to feed me for these days, that I should at least repay what I owe.”

The blonde turned to look at her curiously, and Honeymaren realized that Elsa’s eyes were even more blue than the clear winter sky above them. ‘ _Get it together Honeymaren_ ,’ she scolded herself mentally before she spoke to dispel her own thinking. “We could go hunting together, to refill your stores. Or, maybe even travel down-mountain if there is a village to buy you supplies.” Even as she made the offer, a feeling in her gut (that same stupid gut that made her think about beautiful smiles and blue eyes) wanted Elsa to accept the former instead of the latter.

Besides, was there even a village down-mountain for supplies? How did Elsa get supplies? Some of the things in the cave definitely looked like they were not hand-made, nor were they made by animal parts or rock or wood. So she had to go somewhere, right?

Those eyes of impossible blue fixated on Honeymaren’s face as Elsa pondered over the offer, and in any other circumstance Honeymaren was sure her face would’ve turned a shade of red. The safest place for her eyes to be were locked with Elsa’s own, since apparently she was thinking about that stupid beautiful smile and those stupid blue eyes and those remarkably stupid kissable lips so getting caught in a stare was probably the least offensive place she could look, and not look away.

She had to get her head in order, this was really not the kind of time. Besides, she was not the type of woman to launch herself at a complete stranger, and she assumed Elsa wouldn’t even know what to do with said launch. Since, _obviously_ , she was a hermit on a mountainside. Who lived alone. Like hermits did. Obviously.

“Okay,” Elsa decided. “We’ll go out tomorrow. No use going today after the climb.”

Before Honeymaren could comment further or protest if she wanted to, they were at the entrance of the cave. In that moment, she became almost painfully aware of how deep the cold had settled in her body. They had not been covered in snow nor had the wind been howling, but the cold of the North Mountain was more than she had experienced in her life. She hoped that the warmth of the cave with some hot meal and tea would help her defrost.

The pair didn’t speak as they headed inside, Honeymaren shutting the door behind her. The door behind her was thick and didn’t let any cold in, which made her wonder how exactly Elsa had gotten it in place. This couldn’t have been left behind by the Ice Witch, since the ruins of the castle had been certainly lived in.

But before she could ask, Elsa kept on walking, and Honeymaren quickly followed behind, not wanting to be left. Even with her quick pace, Honeymaren still couldn’t walk side-by-side with Elsa, due to the other woman’s impossible speed or familiarity with the cage, and she arrived in the main chamber moments after Elsa. The fire was nothing more than embers, but she watched as Elsa crouched near it and opened her jacket, which didn’t make sense. And what made less sense was the flash of purple _fire_ darting from Elsa’s coat into the embers.

No, that wasn’t right. Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her. Yeah, that was it. Her eyes weren’t used to the dark yet after being outside in blinding white snow, so she was imagining that fire could walk on its own versus it being struck normally.

Realizing that she seemed to have been struck dumb by Elsa’s quick agreement to a hunting trip tomorrow, Honeymaren began to shrug herself out of her coat. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she queried.

“There is some smoked char we can eat,” Elsa responded, turning to look at Honeymaren as if she realized something about her. “And get whatever you would like for tea, I’ll boil some water.” As if on cue at hearing the word ‘tea’, Honeymaren’s body shivered from the cold, which spurred Elsa into action, getting her up from her spot on the floor and walking over to the bed they had been sharing. In a movement, she pulled a blanket that Honeymaren knew was the warmest on the bed (and yet the one not made of fur) and brought it over, holding it out as an offering of warmth.

Grateful for the extra warmth, Honeymaren stepped closer, and the blonde wrapped her blanket-bearing arms around her shoulders. Their faces were close, so close, close enough to once again remind Honeymaren that Elsa’s eyes were impossibly blue, her hair looked incredibly soft, her lips were cute when quirked up in a smile, and that she had a light dusting of freckles that one had to be inches away to see. All things that Honeymaren didn’t want to be thinking about, but her brain brought back as if to remind her that the last time she had even looked at a girl was so very long ago.

Elsa, for her part, didn’t seem to be pulling away, but she didn’t move any closer either, which at least bade well for them being in close quarters for the next few days. 

Her stomach was what called Honeymaren’s attention back to reality, and Elsa drew back at the same time, what looked like a light blush dusting over her freckles. The blanket started to fall off, but Honeymaren’s hands grabbed the falling material and maneuvered the material so it draped over her shoulders like cape, and she shuffled off towards the food stores to find the aforementioned char and herbs.

Nothing was hard to find, as the resident cave-dweller kept everything so impeccably organized. She shuffled her hand so it poked out of the blanket, grabbing two dried filets of the arctic char, and a handful of some mint. As she walked out of the food stores, she spied a deck of playing cards on the stool by Elsa’s chair. On impulse, she put the herbs between her teeth and reached for the cards, tucking them under her blanket-cape before moving forward.

Once she reached Elsa by the cooking pot, Honeymaren handed over the pieces of char, and took an offered cup of hot water. With the cup warming her hands, she dropped in about half of the mint, and held out the other half for Elsa.

The moment Elsa took the mint and dropped it into a cup of her own, Honeymaren set her stewing drink down and pulled out the deck of cards that she had been holding, her eyes on Elsa preparing the dried fish. “I, I saw these. And thought that we could play a few games, for the night?”

Elsa, again with that pondering, thoughtful look, surveyed the cards and then back up to Honeymaren’s face, which must have been hopeful, for that was what she felt. Hopeful that she would get to enjoy this time with Elsa, but also hoping that the time of playing cards would open the blonde up and they would get to talk more than the previous few days and nights.

And then, for the second time that day, Elsa surprised Honeymaren with a simple, “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha, I was sneaky on the fact that they had shared a bed up until this point because it obviously had to happen for practicality, and also because until it means something, I didn't feel the urge to include it as a whole thing. Also, the vague half-truths are going to be over soon, because as good as I personally am at lying, writing half-lying is a lot harder than actually lying.
> 
> It also ends here because I really did not want to make this chapter wait any longer – but the card-playing will probably serve either to open the next chapter or as a flashback later on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the truth must be confronted and told

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen here I probably should have cut this chapter down but I didn't so I apologize if it feels weird. I also ran out of steam towards the end because I kept on fighting with myself about publishing it way earlier but then wanting to write more because I liked what I was including but didn't think it was worth a separate chapter.

Honeymaren was having a wonderful, impossible dream. She knew it had to be a dream because it was summer, and she was with Elsa. And everything looked different than what she knew, as if she had been transported back in time.

She was walking hand-in-hand with Elsa through the city of Arendelle. Honeymaren knew that she had never been into the city in her life – the closest she got was a village on the border of the Northuldra’s range and the proper border – and there was a festival. The people of the dream all knew Elsa and greeted her warmly, even if they kept their distance to respect her. Elsa looked … warmer, brighter, _happier_ , and Honeymaren never wanted that look to leave her face.

The details around Honeymaren were vague yet vivid, where she felt like she was alive in the dream but she couldn’t tell anyone what she saw outside of Elsa’s face. It seemed like whoever gave her the dream only wanted her to remember that face, as if Elsa was the most important thing in the world. And Spirits, in the dream Honeymaren could completely agree.

As the pair walked, Honeymaren’s free hand snatched a single flower from a nearby flower cart, the stem becoming entwined with her fingers with each step they took. And then, as they stopped in front of a street cart, Honeymaren brought the flower between them and presented it to the blonde, watching Elsa’s face at the gesture.

But then, as Honeymaren’s dream swore that Elsa was about to lean forward and kiss her, a raindrop fell.

More accurately, the drop falling forcibly removed Honeymaren from her dream. As she woke up, she could feel that the bed next to her no longer had Elsa’s weight next to her. Figures, the hermit was probably preparing supplies for their hunt and was being kind in letting Honeymaren sleep.

As she opened her eyes, however, another splash of wetness hit her cheek, and she was startled to find herself face-to-face with a … a salamander?!? How in the hell was a salamander here, on the bed?? Completely startled, Honeymaren jolted up in bed and shrieked loudly, apparently startling the creature as well because it burst into flames.

Purple flames that poked a little at Honeymaren’s memory from a few days ago, but her lizard brain (pun sort of intended) was more focused on the fire on her chest, and she appropriately shrieked “FIRE! FIREFIREFIRE! _FIRELIZARD_!” instead of her more general noise, which brought Elsa bursting into her view. 

The blonde looked down at the purple on-fire salamander and hurriedly scooped it up bare-handed as Maren was furiously patting at the areas of the blanket that were smoldering. Once she had deposited her cargo anywhere else, Elsa started also patting down Maren, their hands awkwardly brushing against each other’s as often as they hit the burnt fur. Once Elsa was satisfied that the fire was out, she turned and faced the creature, a stern look on her face and holding out her hand.

Listening to the unspoken order, the very unnatural formerly-on-fire salamander scurried up her leg and into Elsa’s hand. “Bruni!” the blonde scolded.

If Honeymaren was prone to passing out, she probably would have at the scene in front of her. Elsa was talking to the thing like she knew it. Like she was familiar with it. In the back of Honeymaren’s mind, it reminded her of the stories of the Ice Witch. That the Ice Witch kept the Spirits close.

Her mind racing, Honeymaren realized that Elsa was talking to her, and that one hand was still resting on her body, where the fire-lizard had scorched her. She could swear that she could feel a chill underneath that hand, but she shook the thought of that ridiculousness out of her head. “Huh?” she asked, having failed at paying attention to what Elsa said.

Elsa’s brow furrowed as she inspected Honeymaren’s face to see if something was wrong with her countenance. Clearly not seeing anything there, Elsa huffed before bringing the salamander back up into Honeymaren’s eyes. “I was introducing you to Bruni,” she explained again. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but Honeymaren’s focus drew to the creature.

A salamander that burst into flame, that sounded exactly like Yelana’s stories about the Fire Spirit. And since it was a phenomenon she couldn’t explain away with delirium or coincidence, Honeymaren wanted to be in denial. But the stories … the stories all said that the Spirits were drawn to each other. Or at the very least, the Fire Spirit wouldn’t be hanging out with a mortal woman.

Four days of denial were squelched as Honeymaren looked back and forth between Bruni and Elsa. “You’re … you’re _her_ ,” Honeymaren breathed almost reverently in understanding. With the denial incinerated (metaphorically speaking), so many things about Elsa that she had just brushed off as odd or due to her hermit status made so much more sense. And all of the answers she did get. “You’re the Ice Witch. The Fifth Spirit.”

Elsa at least had the decency to look shamefaced and nodded when confronted with the truth that she had been vaguely avoiding ever since Honeymaren woke up in her cave.

“But you’re … you’re young. You’re on the mountain. You don’t have a palace of ice. You live in a cave. You’re young! Oh my Spirits we were so wrong about you!” Honeymaren burst with observations and revelations alike. With the exception of Bruni’s appearance, Honeymaren hadn’t seen anything particularly magical or remarkable about Elsa (discounting her beauty, obviously), so she had so many questions about Elsa being the Ice Witch.

What was she supposed to do with this information? What could she do with it? She clearly had done half of her mission for her people, but now that she had found her … now what? And judging by how different Elsa was from the stories, Honeymaren wondered if she could even help keep the winter at bay.

The planned hunt from yesterday was entirely forgotten as she processed the information. “Tell me the whole truth.”

\------❄️❄️------

The moment Elsa had heard Honeymaren’s scream, her heart leapt into her throat and she turned away from the fire and pot she had been tending. In a flash, her task was forgotten as she flew to Honeymaren’s side, trying to put out the fire with her hands as best as she could. Even without her powers, the heat from the fire didn’t hurt her (she couldn’t remember the last time she had been burnt, which was probably part of what her extended life and chilled body that being the Fifth Spirit gave her).

With one hand she had scooped up Bruni and dropped him unceremoniously onto the floor, her focus primarily on being sure that Honeymaren wasn’t hurt. Once she was satisfied that the fire had been put out, Elsa realized that her jig was up. She couldn’t keep hiding the truth from Honeymaren any more, since there was no earthly way she could explain Bruni’s presence outside of the truth.

Her mouth drawn in a firm line across her face, Elsa turned to look at Bruni and scold him for what he did. With a silent hand out, she waited until he skittered across the floor and up her leg, depositing himself in her hand as she brought him back into her guest’s eyeline. “Honeymaren, I would like you to meet Bruni. Bruni, this is Honeymaren,” she introduced, although with getting no response from the human, she must have lost her at some point.

“Honeymaren?” she queried.

And then the lightbulb clicked on and Honeymaren must’ve put the pieces together, because the dark-haired woman called Elsa a name that she hadn’t heard in a long time. Fifth Spirit. 

Knowing she had been caught in her lie of omission, Elsa nodded, grimacing in shame. She wasn’t truly a dishonest person, and she hadn’t held things back since she had reconnected with Anna, but Anna’s death had also changed everything. But that didn’t make Elsa proud of what she had done.

At least maybe part of the brief success of her lie had been because Honeymaren hadn’t believed the things she had seen with her eyes. Judging by what Honeymaren was saying. It still didn’t make Elsa feel much better.

Honeymaren’s next words rang in Elsa’s ears like one of the chapel’s bells had been rung next to her ear.

“Tell me the truth.”

The truth? The truth was a lot of things, was a lot of stories, what exactly did Honeymaren want to hear? With a sigh, Elsa set Bruni down on the blanket that was still covering Honeymaren, and pulled herself up to sit cross-legged and facing the other woman. “As time passed after I moved to this mountain, I started to lose my magic. A dark, powerful magic started to encroach on these lands. This winter … this has been the worst of it.”

It was certainly an abridged version of her story, but the full version was too long (obviously), and far more painful than Elsa wanted to recreate with a near-stranger.

Her face must have shown her pain, because Honeymaren didn’t push for more detail. Instead, the Northuldran processed what was said about the magic and the winter. And carefully, she asked one question. “How do you … how do you get your magic back?”

That was the question Honeymaren chose to ask, how she chose to word it. There was no accusatory tone (although Elsa was sure that such an attitude would come later once everything had sunk in), no demand to leave. No venom, nor fear. Just the simple question that had the easiest yet hardest of the answers; a question that, if answered, could save her people.

An answer that Elsa had accepted just a day ago, an answer that she didn’t want to burden Honeymaren with. Honeymaren, who had her whole life ahead of her, who probably had some man or woman waiting back with her people; who probably was justifiably angry at Elsa for her failings. Regardless of what the disembodied, imagined voice of her long-dead sister had tried to tell her.

But the magic wasn’t going to wait until Elsa was ready or found someone whose life she wouldn’t be wasting.

“What stories do the Northuldra tell about Queen Anna and the Fifth Spirit?” Elsa asked, hoping to pull the story out of the oral history so she could sound a little less crazy with her hypothesis.

Honeymaren opened her mouth, as if to start telling the stories of her elders. But instead of the beginnings of a tale, her stomach rumbled softly, amplified by the quiet that had settled between the two (three including Bruni).

As if in answer, Elsa’s own stomach rumbled, reminding Elsa that they were not only supposed to go hunting that day, but that Bruni’s pyrotechnics had interrupted breakfast. If they were going to be explaining the mystery of Elsa’s powers – or lack thereof – and clear the air between them, then hunting was going to be forgotten. Which was probably for the best, as she had been finding during the winter that game was hard to find on the North Mountain.

Taking the cue, Elsa slipped off of the bed and gestured to the fire. “We can eat and talk, right?”

Her guest nodded and slipped out from under the blankets, taking care not to cover Bruni. The gesture did not go unnoticed, and drew a small smile from the blonde. To satisfy their hunger, Elsa focused on putting together the oats she had brought out to make porridge. It was quiet work, and Elsa made it even more quiet as she went through the motions and thought about how exactly she could tell Honeymaren the full truth.

Thankfully, Honeymaren had gone to relieve herself and clean up between sleep and their morning activities, which meant that the silence was not awkward or accusatory as Elsa worked. And, with good timing, Honeymaren walked back into the room and seated herself on the floor next to where Elsa was crouched.

Wordlessly, the blonde finished preparing the food and scooped it out into two bowls, handing one over to her companion before seating herself on the floor as well. Thankfully, the silence stayed as the pair ate in tandem, neither one complaining about the meal or trying to get to the story before necessary. 

When either the silence between them was too much or Honeymaren had finished her porridge, she set the wooden bowl down and cleared her throat expectantly. The sound jarred Elsa from her trance, looking up and seeing the other woman’s face – and she knew that she had to start talking.

“Well, this story starts – as do all stories – once upon a time,” Elsa started.

\------❄️❄️------

_**Once upon a time …** _

“... the handsome prince went to his father, the king, for permission to wed the girl that had stolen his heart,” Agnarr smiled at Elsa and Anna, the girls sitting up at attention and hanging onto his every word. It didn’t matter how many times he told the story to his daughters, they always treated every time as if it was the first time. He wanted the girls to know their story, where they came from, even if the rest of the kingdom wouldn’t know the truth.

“What did the king say?” questioned Anna, already ever the romantic.

“Shh, Anna. Let Papa tell the story,” Elsa quieted her sister.

Agnarr could feel Iduna’s chuckle from over his shoulder. Undeterred by the questions, he continued with the story. “Unbeknownst to the prince, the king had a dark heart and a darker purpose. So when he found out that the maiden the prince wanted to marry was not of noble birth – nay, not even of the people of their land – the king was _furious_.”

As if on cue, both little girls gasped.

Yet, Agnarr’s story pressed on. “But the king agreed to bless the prince’s marriage, although he planned on using the joyous occasion to further his desire of supremacy over the land.”

“What does ‘supremacy’ mean?” Anna asked.

“It means that the king wanted to control everyone,” Elsa answered, beaming that she got to teach her little sister something, and her chest puffing out even more when she saw Agnarr and Iduna’s approving smiles.

“So the wicked king agreed to let the prince marry his fair maiden, and plans were made for a wedding. However, when the prince and king traveled to where the maiden lived, _that_ was when the king struck.” He leaned forward in emphasis, the squeals of his daughters proving the effect was complete. Anna had ducked behind Elsa, scared of the imagined moment, while his eldest child defiantly thrust her hands out to protect the other girl. “Soldiers, who the king had disguised as well-wishers, attacked the Northuldra. The villagers had let down their guard to celebrate the wedding, and they were brutally cut down.”

This part of the story was hard, as he could feel Iduna’s sadness at this recollection of events. Her sadness was unmatched by even his shame at the events of what happened, but to his daughters this was nothing more than a bedtime yarn, woven by their dear father.

Anna poked her head out from behind Elsa, her eyes wide. “And then what happened?”

“Did the prince duel the king?” the blonde girl guessed.

Ah, but what a good story it would have been if Agnarr had drawn a sword and duelled his father. Or even if he and Mattias had teamed up to take down King Runeard. How differently would the story of Arendelle had been, how they wouldn’t have to hide so much of the truth. Sadly, regretfully, Agnarr shook his head. “There were too many soldiers and villagers between the prince and the king. And in the panic and confusion, the prince was knocked out.” A dramatic pause. “Not only was the prince knocked out, but he had been separated from his best friend _and_ his love. And somehow, in the chaos, he had been set in a wagon and sent out of the forest. By the time the prince woke up, he was out of the Forest.”

“And then what?” Again, she wanted to know. As if she knew that this story was more than just a story, that she knew it had a deeper meaning.

“And then the bad guy won,” Anna protested, her voice hiking up into a whine as she pouted in disappointment. Anna never liked the stories where the good guys didn’t win – neither did Elsa, but Anna was more vocal about it.

Thankfully, Agnarr was saved in his story-telling by his wife as she jumped in. “Yes, it seemed like the evil king had won,” she started, “for the prince was not the only one who made it out, but one of the king’s very powerful advisors was there as well. And when they returned to the castle, the advisor began spreading vicious lies that the villagers had attacked and killed the king and the kingdom’s soldiers.”

All whines and pouts were washed away in a collective gasp, the girls clearly not seeing this part of the story coming. And if they didn’t see this coming, then their surprise at the ending would be total.

“At first the prince couldn’t believe that the villagers would have attacked, but he eventually believed those who told him that he must have hit his head, or remembered falsely.”

“What happened to the maiden?” This question came from Anna, the firmest believer in true love conquering all (especially if you asked Elsa, for her little sister ended all of their snow-games with ‘and they kissed and lived happily ever after!’).

A smile spread across Iduna’s face for the first time since the story had begun. “She had _snuck_ into the wagon, after saving the prince’s life. When the prince discovered her, they came up with a plan so they could still marry. They hid where she came from, and passed her off as a commoner of their land. They were married, in a grand ceremony, and –”

“AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER!” Anna gleefully shouted, drawing laughter and an eye-roll from her parents and sister (the eye-roll coming from Elsa).

“Almost,” Agnarr cut in. “They did live happily, and they had two very wonderful daughters. The. End.”

That only made the hearts in Anna’s eyes grow, and the ending seemed to appease even Elsa, smiling slightly when her eight-year-old mind connected the dots that it had been the story of her parents. But that smile was gone when she remembered something. “What happened to her people? And the Forest?” Elsa asked.

“The spirits were enraged by what had happened, and they created a powerful mist to keep everyone out. The spirits have stayed away from Arendelle, and without being able to return to the Forest, there is no telling what happened to the Northuldra.”

Silence settled over the girls as they took in the story.

“Woah, Papa,” Anna breathed, “that was _epic_!”

“And now it’s time for bed, my darlings,” Iduna crooned as Agnarr climbed off of the bed. He did his part in telling the bedtime story, and now Iduna would finish tucking the girls in. And if Anna wasn’t tired, she would undo all of that tucking in and convince Elsa to play with her magic.

Dutifully, the girls clambered off of the bed, and started walking with their mother towards the door, and Agnarr could hear Elsa telling Iduna that one day, _she_ would free the Forest.

“I hope so, my snowflake.”

\------❄️❄️------

Honeymaren had expected to hear some kind of fairytale version of Elsa’s story, but she hadn’t expected to hear all of it. But then again, it probably was part of the explanation as to why Elsa was … Elsa.

And it seemed to be useful, because Honeymaren remembered hearing only parts of the story in the oral histories of the Northuldra. She remembered hearing about the attack by King Runeard, and then the stories jumped to the Ice Witch and her quest to balance the world. 

Honestly, it was still a little hard to wrap her head around. 

“Anna and I always loved the idea of being able to save the Forest and free the Northuldra, and Mama encouraged that far more than Papa did. He was scared of my magic, and she tried to help me. But before too long, my magic was more powerful than she could understand. The Northuldra lived in harmony with magic, they never controlled it,” Elsa explained quietly.

Honeymaren could agree with that, since even to this day the Northuldra never really could harness what little magic they could. Maybe it had something to do with the explanation Elsa had given earlier – that the dark magic was even choking out the powerful Spirits.

“But that’s just the beginning, right?” Honeymaren asked.

Elsa nodded in agreement. “Yes, how I was born with magic, why I was chosen from the start to be the Fifth Spirit. It wasn’t until many years later that I actually became that.”

\------❄️❄️------

**_Once upon a time … (but many years later)_ **

Three years into her reign, and Queen Elsa was no happier being queen than when she had started. And she had been terrified during her coronation. Her powers were now announced to the world, and that didn’t seem to stop the long line of suitors that acted like they weren’t afraid of Arendelle’s Snow Queen.

In the past six months, she had turned down Prince Naveen of Maldonia, the young Macintosh from Dunbroch, a war hero from a distant kingdom to the East, Prince Eric from a small kingdom to the south of Arendelle, and she was currently trying to figure out how to ~~escape~~ turn down the dullard Prince Edward of Andalasia.

Edward had come with a retinue and bold announcement that he was in Arendelle to ‘court the fair queen of Arendelle’, and while Elsa had wanted to less-than-politely tell him that he could sail on back to Andalasia, Anna had gotten to him first and allowed him to stay. Elsa had understood why, it wouldn’t hurt to at least have friendly relations with Andalasia – or at the very least not anger their queen, Edward’s stepmother – so she had implored the castle staff to throw together an impromptu feast to greet their royal visitor.

But at least the other potential suitors had been slightly interesting. Prince Naveen had cajoled Anna into an impromptu duet and had even earned a smile from Elsa. Eric regaled them with his tales of sailing the seas, and had been the first to reawaken a desire for adventure within the queen. Young Macintosh faced off with Kristoff in feats of strength after hearing about the various athletic events they competed in in DunBroch – which Anna greatly appreciated while Elsa’s face seemed to be permanently attached to her hand. Captain Li had been taciturn but he had managed a lengthy conversation with Elsa about his service in his Emperor’s war. And once he had admitted that he wasn’t truly interested in marriage with Elsa, but was merely curious, Elsa had taken somewhat of a shine to him. Or at least, more of a shine than she had the others.

Prince Edward, however, was dimwitted and oblivious and had an annoying habit of talking about himself as if nothing else mattered. Elsa had been forced to entertain him earlier in the day with a walk through Arendelle, and she would have been tempted to walk into the harbor if her powers wouldn’t have frozen the water beneath her. By the time she had escaped him, there was a very real risk that she would have been sending an ice sculpture back to Andalasia instead of a prince.

Even Anna had almost fallen asleep during dinner with yet another anecdote of Edward’s troll-hunting (it had been only a week and there already had been too many stories of the prince’s so-called exploits). So the queen had feigned a headache to get out of an after dinner stroll, and was pacing in her room. 

Her magic was restless underneath her skin, as if the _thing_ inside of her knew that this wasn’t the life for her. That she was meant for something else. And suddenly, like lightning, the idea-slash-realization hit her. In a flurry (pun intended) of movement, Elsa went and grabbed the first thing that she could use as a bag, shoving her mother’s shawl and a few other items that were within reach.

She didn’t even notice Anna sneaking into her room, until the redhead charged up to her and began unpacking as furiously as Elsa could pack. “I know Prince Edward is _dull_ , Elsa, but you can’t just run away!”

The outburst made the queen pause what she was doing and realize that Anna was there. “I - It - This isn’t to do with Edward, Anna,” she hissed. “I just can’t do this anymore.”

She didn’t even need to say anything else, her sister seemed to understand and reached for their mother’s shawl, wrapping it around Elsa’s shoulders while getting Elsa to sit on her bed. 

“Your dreams about the Forest?” Anna queried.

The blonde nodded and took the edges of the shawl in her own hands to pull it around herself to seek some comfort from it. “The forest, and remembering the story Mama and Papa told us when we were younger,” she admitted. “It keeps feeling like I’m not supposed to be here.”

“But you’re an amazing queen,” Anna tried to reassure her older sister.

Elsa shook her head at the attempt. “I know, I know that I’m not doing a bad job. I just feel like I don’t fit. Like I’m still part of the puzzle, but that I’m forcing myself into a spot I don’t perfectly fit in.” She let her words sit, to try and sink in for Anna to understand what she meant.

A few moments later, Anna nodded her head. “Then once Prince Edward leaves, we will figure out what exactly is going on. Together. And only after Prince Edward returns to Andalasia. Because I will never forgive you if you make me sit through one of his ‘tales of glory’ by myself one more time,” she threatened, breaking off into a giggle by the end of her threat, which Elsa joined in on.

“Okay, I promise,” the queen agreed, “Cross my heart.”

\------❄️❄️------

“You gave up being a queen?!?” Honeymaren questioned, disbelieving. The Northuldra stories had often said that the Ice Witch – er, Elsa – had worked closely with the legendary Queen Anna, but they had never given this much thought to Elsa’s background. Or even the fact that she was Queen Anna’s sister.

Besides, even looking at Elsa and how she lived now, it was a far cry from being a Queen of Arendelle. It was even a far cry from being like any Arendellian that Honeymaren had come across. But then again, she had seen some of what had remained of the Ice Palace, and much of that had royal trappings, including the necklace that she had stashed in her pocket.

Elsa, for her part, shrugged as if abdicating the throne had been no big deal. “It wasn’t for me,” she replied, as if that was enough explanation.

The story so far had been nothing like what Honeymaren had expected, yet she was hooked. Maybe because she could see Elsa’s face brighten in even small amounts when she spoke of her sister or the happy memory with her parents; or maybe because she thought that getting Elsa to open up would provide some sort of answer to stop the winter or get Elsa her magic back or … or anything to help this woman Honeymaren had only met less than a week ago.

“So then what happened, when you and Anna went to the Forest?” she asked.

The stories all said that the Fifth Spirit and Queen Anna had freed the Forest and the Spirits together, but that’s where the similarities between the various legends ended.

“We,” Elsa paused, “we lifted the mist. I pushed Anna away so she wouldn’t be in danger when I went to Ahtohallan to find out the truth about my father’s bedtime story. Which ended up being for the best, as I ended up frozen within Ahtohallan after learning the truth. I got a message to Anna, and she was able to undo the harm that Runeard’s betrayal had done.” It was the abridged version of what had happened, clearly, but it was enough of the story to realize which tale had been the accurate one.

And what Elsa said, with Anna being able to receive a message, made something dawn on Honeymaren. The bond between Elsa and Anna, the relationship between the Northuldra and the Spirits, something she once recalled Yelana telling her in a story around the fire when she was a child … “A bridge,” she breathed out.

The blonde looked at Honeymaren with something that looked like shock and understanding mixed together.

“You’re alone now, untethered,” Honeymaren continued with her realization, “that’s what will bring your magic back.”

“But Anna is dead, she has been for a long time.” Elsa made no mention of what the ghost of her sister’s voice had suggested, because it was folly to think that it would happen.

Yet Honeymaren didn’t want to let go of the thread she had picked at. “Then we’ll figure out what can be done. Maybe travel back to Ahtohallan and see what it shows you. Or you can come with me back to the Northuldra and Yelana might have some answers, or –” she cut herself off, not really sure what else she could offer. Elsa must have already tried to do so many of these things over the years, what good was she going to be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't write the actual story of how Elsa/Anna freed the spirits because that was writing the plot of Frozen II and I was taking a hard pass at re-writing it when it was going to be like 96% the same as what happened in the movie (just without Honeymaren, Ryder, and Yelana and without the dam, but yeah same concept). That's not to say things won't get further referenced in the future, I just was super done with writing at that point.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when the solution seemed to be within the cave, the plan to stop the winter has other plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget you guys! I just needed a break, and phew was it well-deserved. That being said, this story in my original outline was going to go in a certain direction, but as I wrote this chapter ... EVERYTHING CHANGED! And because everything changed so dramatically in the course of writing this singular chapter, that is the main reason why I cut it where I did.

Honeymaren couldn’t sleep, her brain had been going non-stop with questions for Elsa ever since she had been told the truth. For every question Elsa would answer, Honeymaren would have three more, especially since she was still thinking of ways to fix everything. Her revelation the other night was clearly key, but she wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. 

Did that mean that Elsa needed a new family bond? So what? She was supposed to go down to the castle of the Royal Family of Arendelle and make nice with her great-grandnieces and/or nephews?

Or did Elsa need some kind of familiar? Apprentice? Assistant? Find someone magically-inclined to understand her and help her reconnect with her magic  _ and _ humanity? Although Honeymaren didn’t believe that Elsa wasn’t in touch with  _ her _ humanity, just isolated from people.

Would True Love solve this problem? True Love was always what saved the day in the stories she had heard from the Arendellians, but that left the impossible barrier of getting Elsa off of the mountain. Or getting some random guy to come up to the mountain. Both of which were not Honeymaren’s preferred options – and she swore it had nothing to do with how impossibly gorgeous she found Elsa or how some stupid nagging feeling in the back of her chest wanted to help  _ Elsa _ , not just the Northuldra.

Pixie dust? Didn’t exist.

So Honeymaren laid awake in the bed she shared with a deity-like figure, staring up at the cave ceiling with these thoughts and ideas swirling around her brain. Bruni, now that he had been introduced and was not lighting her on fire, slept contentedly on her stomach. The little Fire Spirit kept her cozy, which must have been how she had been so warm all those nights previous.

Elsa, for her part, slept as if nothing was bothering her, like she had accepted her lonely fate. 

And even  _ that _ bothered Honeymaren. She wasn’t one who would roll over and accept her fate, as clearly evidenced by the fact that she had started on this impossible journey in the first place. But why was it so hard for her to stand aside?

Only Ahtohallan knew.

Wait.

That was it.

“ _ Ahtohallan _ ,” Honeymaren blurted while sitting up in the bed, startling both Bruni and Elsa awake.

The salamander tumbled onto Honeymaren’s lap and narrowed its eyes as if it was glaring at her (salamanders can’t glare, right?), and Elsa rolled over from the side she was sleeping on to look at her companion with bleary eyes.

“A-wha?” the blonde grumbled.

The dark-haired woman looked only slightly shame-faced when she realized the commotion she had caused with her realization, and that she had said it much louder than she had intended.

But now was not the time for apologies, not when she may have found the answer to their problems. “Ahtohallan. We can travel to Ahtohallan for answers. And on the way we can stop in my village, maybe Yelana knows something in her stories,” Honeymaren mused out loud, now on a roll with the idea she was having. Ahtohallan is the source of all magic, it has all of the answers of the past, it  _ has _ to know how to restore your magic!”

“Go back to sleep. Tell me your plan in the morning,” muttered Elsa in response, definitely not awake enough to continue the conversation or plan-making or whatever it was that Honeymaren wanted to engage in at what must have been an unholy hour. To mark the conversation finished, Elsa rolled back over and pulled the blanket back around her body.

With a sigh, Honeymaren realized that the other woman was right – even if they were to leave right away, it was probably dark out and therefore unsafe for travel – and she laid back down. Bruni, happy that his bed was horizontal once again, scurried in a couple of tight circles and settled back down to sleep. Her brain was not yet tired enough to sleep, the brief surge of excitement from her revelation buzzing around, so instead she thought about what would need to be done.

There was no reindeer, not like when Honeymaren left her village. It would be her and Elsa, but Elsa also had a  _ pulk _ . So that could hold their supplies. There also were other supplies for a trek, and the storm had let up. If there was a map tucked away in all of Elsa’s books, they could use that to find a town or outpost to re-supply so they wouldn’t repeat Honeymaren’s mistake on her way up.

Sleep eventually claimed her, as she planned the first step of their quest.

And for the first time, in a long time, the dreams of her bedmate were hopeful.

\------ ❄️❄️------

When Honeymaren awoke, Bruni’s warmth had left her stomach, and Elsa’s own warmth and presence had also left the bed. With a huff, she started to roll out of the bed, spotting her hostess hunched over some papers with what looked to be some more porridge nearly-forgotten by her side.

The idea of porridge, while not among her favorite things to eat, reminded Honeymaren that she did need nourishment, and she knew there would be enough for her – Elsa had been very conscientious about taking care of Honeymaren – so she slipped out and wandered over towards Elsa and what would be the prepared food. Wordlessly, so she would not disturb Elsa from whatever she was engrossed in, Honeymaren spooned herself out some breakfast.

Normally, back in the village, meals were never quiet, as there always seemed to be someone nearby. Usually, she had Ryder with her, which explained most of the chatter. But in the fortnight or so that she had been in the cave with Elsa, mealtimes had been significantly quieter. And Honeymaren found she didn’t mind it. For all of her sad and aloof manner, silence with Elsa could still feel warm and companionable.

But today’s meal did not feel that way, probably due to Honeymaren’s curiosity at what Elsa was poring over. Did it have anything to do with what she had said last night? Was she actually looking into the magic? Was she reading  _ anything else _ to take her mind off of Honeymaren’s idea?

Completely unsettled in the silence, she swallowed the bite that she had in her mouth and decided to just go for it and ask. “What’s that?”

If the blonde had been startled by the break in the silence, she didn’t show it. “Mapping our journey,” she replied without looking up, shocking Honeymaren with the acceptance and nonchalance of her tone. For someone who had accepted her fate and had said that she didn’t believe there was anything she could do, this was a change.

Unless …

“You’re not going to just leave me at the village, are you?” Honeymaren accused, eyes narrowing at Elsa while taking another bite. Not that she believed Elsa to be dishonest enough to do something like that, but at the same time, it  _ would _ be a convenient way to rid herself of Honeymaren without abandoning her to the winter.

Elsa’s attention finally broke from her paper as she looked at Honeymaren with something like offense in her eyes. “No!” she exclaimed, although amongst that offense there may have been a flicker of guilt in her blue eyes. As if she had thought about it, but some royal (or ex-royal, or chivalrous, or just plain  _ good _ ) concept of honor had stopped her from acting on the idea. “We were only going to use it as a stopping point. But I think my maps are outdated.”

Taking that as an invitation, Honeymaren shuffled over and crouched down, peering over Elsa’s shoulder. In the back of her mind, somewhere, there were thoughts about how close she was to Elsa, or that even living in a cave, she smelled like pine, woodsmoke, and snow, with the comforting dampness that she lived in. But those thoughts had no place right now. The paper the blonde was reading was in fact old, and definitely out of date, judging by the sheer lack of Arendellian settlements marked. Truthfully, it looked like Elsa hadn’t so much as touched the map in the years since the reign of Queen Anna. With a mouthful of porridge, Honeymaren nodded her head. “Oh yeah, there are a lot more Arendellian towns now,” she agreed, although it probably sounded incredibly unintelligible.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Anna,” Elsa murmured reflexively. Realizing what she said, she finally looked up from her map, a light flush of embarrassment covering her cheeks. 

“Sorry ...” Elsa started, right as Honeymaren swallowed and giggled.

“I thought all princesses were the epitome of manners,” she teased, which succeeded in fading the embarrassment from Elsa’s cheeks. Setting the spoon down in the bowl, Honeymaren gestured back towards the map in front of the blonde. “There are a lot more towns in Arendelle than on that map. Settlers keep trying to expand into Northuldra lands, but the decrees and protections of Queen Anna and King Aksel keep them away.” 

If Elsa was thinking about towns, then she either wanted supplies or wanted to avoid people, or both. She didn’t have to wait to guess which one, though. “We may be able to use a supply stop, but what do you think is the best way to the Northuldra?” she queried. 

Looking at the map – even one as outdated as this one – Honeymaren visualized their route. “I climbed up the south face, it’s the easier path, but taking us to the nearest village or outpost would put us out of the way, even if it is here,” she detailed, pointing at a spot on the map where  _ Oaken’s _ was written in a delicate script. “But if we have fresh supplies and plenty of them, a few extra days won’t actually be a problem.”

Of course, there was the problem of actually  _ getting _ to Ahtohallan after the Northuldra village, but she’d rather deal with the problem later over the idea of heading into one of the Arendellian villages to buy a boat. Buying a boat meant having money or bartering, two things Honeymaren didn’t have, and it also meant the chance that she would be dealing with someone who did not view the Northuldra well. Because even in spite of the work of Queen Anna and King Aksel – the two greatest royal champions of the Northuldra – some of the common folk acted like they didn’t know what to do with them.

Elsa cocked her head to the side, as if she was weighing Honeymaren’s words, considering the pros and cons. There was a point. With two people in the cave, the existing supplies had been used more quickly, and heading down to Oaken’s would replenish them, especially since they were coming down on that side of the mountain. “Then that will be our path,” she decided with a nod.

With that, she stood up, porridge and bowl forgotten, striding over towards where Honeymaren knew all of her supplies were kept, thinking out loud to herself animatedly as she did.

That was a lot easier to convince Elsa than Honeymaren thought it would be; it was almost as if Elsa was excited for the journey ahead.


End file.
